Regret
by Estelle Tiniwiel
Summary: Christine returns to the Phantom’s lair to try and alter her choice. But what will the Phantom think of her change of heart?


Summary: Christine returns to the Phantom's lair to try and alter her choice. But what will the Phantom think of her change of heart? Rated K.

Disclaimer: I do not own any version of the Phantom of the Opera (except my DVD and soundtrack) and make no money from this story. This is pretty much based on the movie as I haven't managed to see it at the theatre and haven't got hold of any of the book versions yet, either. So I repeat, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters, movie or otherwise.

Author's Note:

This is my first attempt at fan fiction, and although it is quite long for a single piece I did not want to separate it into chapters because I felt that it would ruin the flow of it. I do intend however, to write other longer pieces that I will separate into chapters. I would be very grateful for any reviews, but because I will not be posting another chapter to this story I would like to thank anybody who reviews in advance. Here's the story; hope you like it.

- Estelle Tiniwiel -x-

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"Regret."

Christine slumped down against the rock of the lakeshore, exhaustion seeping through her bones. She had had to pull herself through the icy subterranean lake for the past hour to reach her destination and now she was numb with cold. She had no idea where the Phantom was, or if he would return, for the little boat had been removed from the opera house and therefore could not be used to work out on which side of the lake the Opera Ghost might be. She pulled her knees up against her chest and waited.

The Phantom of the Opera laughed bitterly to himself as he trod the dark back passages of the Opera House: who would have thought that after all the torment he had been through he would still wish to return? No. Not wish. Be compelled. There was something about this House he could not totally abandon; despite all the pain and hours of tortured loneliness, this had been his Opera House, his domain and kingdom. No matter how much he hated it now it was still all that he had ever made himself to be: the ruler of this Opera House.

The Phantom headed steadily towards his lair, thinking hatefully of his broken demeanour when he had left here, ashamed at his weakness in front of Christine and Raoul, turning his mind with loathing onto his now uncovered face. He had fallen, but he would rise again, more cruel and ruthless than before, for now he had no reason to put a hold on his anger: the authorities would soon realise it a foolish endeavour to try and kill the Phantom of the Opera, he who had killed so many times before and who was so learned in the art of stealth.

Smiling slightly he turned the corner to an entrance to his lair.

He stopped in shocked surprise and anger at the sight before him.

"You!"

Christine whirled around in surprise at the sound of his voice, not aware that there was more than one entrance to the Opera Ghost's lair (though if she thought about it logically she realised there must have been, or else the Phantom would have been caught that night after the performance of Don Juan). She felt sudden fear rise up in her throat like bile at the thought of his anger, stuttering like a child.

"I – I – I just wanted -"

"What nerve you have coming down here after your little performance the other night! Think we can make the Phantom feel even more of a fool than he already does?"

Christine shook her head in terrified bewilderment.

"Oh, good. Because I have cast away all feeling for you as you have cast away all devotion you had for me. Now leave this place and be gone."

Christine struggled to find her voice at this last statement, something of desperation creeping into her voice.

"You do not love me?"

The Phantom let out a gentle laugh at this questioning, sending shivers down Christine's spine.

"No, my dear, why should I? You left."

"You told me too."

"Yes," he snapped, "because you loved him and you were unsure of your feelings for me! I wanted your love, not your pity. I wanted the truth, not pretence. You left for life with your precious Vicomte, but if you had really wanted to you could have stayed with your fallen Angel despite his orders, for he would have taken you back, broken and weak willed as he was."

At this Christine lifted her head hopefully, gazing eagerly into the stormy blue eyes flecked with gold.

"But no longer." Her hope shattered. "Your Angel was broken, defeated that night after his opera, and he fell. But I tell you now that your Angel is rising again and this time there are wings of fire at his back, for this time he has committed himself totally to the life of a demon and he has no room in his heart for you."

She cringed at the mad fire in his voice, tears of regret spilling down her cheeks, for she had known that night when she left in the boat with Raoul that part of her still loved the Phantom, but she knew now that she had destroyed that which she once loved and in its place set something far more terrible than before. Something which she could only pity and mourn for, never love.

She sat despairingly down on the cold, hard surface of the lair, turning her head to gaze at the lake so that this demon would not see her tears. She gained her breath and said that which she had never thought to hear herself utter.

"So it is over then. Truly."

The eyes flashed triumphant, the gold the only parts visible in the poor light, and she wept at the relish in his voice as he spoke to her one last time.

"Yes, it is over."

He paused, stepping back into the shadows, so that all light from his eyes was extinguished and shadow took his place.

"Now leave."


End file.
